Fluke of Fate
by AndBeAVillian
Summary: Ch 3. "C'mon Mordy live a little."
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Never thought of Borderlands having fiction before today. Had to write something once I found it. _

_Fluke_

* * *

_Whoever yields properly to Fate, is deemed_

_Wise among men, and knows the laws of heaven._

_EURIPIDES_

* * *

The bus smelled like a hobo: body odor, vomit, and piss. Most of Pandora did, with some rotten corpse and skag dung thrown in for good measure.

As beginnings went it was not promising.

Marcus the Creepy Slob of a crappy bus driver was probably deliberately hitting every single pothole.

_The entire road is one long fucking pothole, who am I kidding? _

Bloodwing dug sharp talons a bit deeper into his shoulder, just enough to pierce flesh through the armor. Mordecai was starting to regret not just walking, sand and heat be damned, as he hung grimly on to the dirty seats.

He was far too busy trying not to get thrown out a window to give the three other passengers much notice, especially when Marcus started heckling them and driving even _more_ erratically than Mordecai had thought possible.

_Fucking shitty driver. Watch the bloody road! I'm not going to die in a fucking one-vehicle-no-explosives-wreck!_

Marcus' thick lips were moving but he wasn't really listening to the sounds coming out. Bloodwing's sharp talons were doing a number on his shoulder and sudden jerks and shudders of the rickety old bus – _Had this shitcan just been airborne for a moment? -_ took possession of the rest of his considerable concentration.

He had never been so glad to get back out into the desert in his life.

"Fuck me man, that was the worst ride I've ever been in." The dark skinned soldier to his right wasn't actually talking to anyone in particular but he had managed to voice the collective feeling. The muscle-bound ox of a man behind them grunted in agreement.

"Maybe another time handsome, we've got incoming!" The pretty redhead pointed off into the distance at the small dark figures moving steadily toward them.

The dregs of Pandora. Psychos.

Her smile could have lit up a world.

_Damn._

"C'mon boys!"

In a flash she was gone, reappearing in the middle of the disorganized attackers energy crackling off of her and sending them to the ground.

_That's different. _

As a beginning it was inauspicious.

No one had really planned anything, like most of the chaos on the shithole known as Pandora it had just kinda happened. Mordecai had taken aim and shot true, straight through the head of an charging freak. The cement block of a man had charged headlong into the band approaching, crushing heads and raining shotgun pellets. The dark skinned soldier racking up his own headcount. Their skills so different and unintentionally complimentary.

It was the first time Mordecai had ever felt...part of a group in combat, not just him and Bloodwing encumbered by clumsy idiots who shot their own feet. The joy of a well-fought battle ran through his blood as another head exploded down his sights.

_Its beautiful. God, it fucking beautiful! _

When the dust finally settled and they were all one uniform shade of dirt-encrusted gore, the four strangers brought together by a rickety bus were glancing warily from face to face. Trigger fingers itchy.

All there for the same reason. The Vault.

It lay between all of them, unspoken.

"That was...God, it was gorgeous. I think I like you boys." She might have been talking about sex, voice low and throaty. Echos of his earlier feeling in the ecstasy of battle and the seamlessness of combat.

_Guess I wasn't the only one who thought so. _

It vaguely pleases him.

The other two nodded, muscles relaxing incrementally. The tension broken by the shared love of battle.

"So...we gonna go see if this lot had a price on their heads or what?" The redhead spoke carefully, moving to rifle through the pockets of the nearest corpse, moving in the direction of town.

"Sure, why not?" Mordecai surprised even himself. Groups weren't something he liked. Just him, Bloodwing and Betsy his trusty rifle.

The things he could count on.

_What did you just sign up for? People betray you, moron. Its just the way of life – and hey did you **see** that rifle? Go get it, its looks nice. _

The voice in his head became too busy running a commentary on the shiny equipment he was scooping off the ground to complain further about the vagaries of human nature.

"Hey skinny, mod for ya." The piece of equipment bounced off his left leg, landing in the sand. He glared at the smiling soldier.

_I have a name asshole. _

"Mordecai not skinny."

"Yeah? Name's Roland. Who are you big guy?" The mountain of muscle wiping brain matter off his nose flashed a rather deranged smile while adjusting the two rings he wore.

"_One" and "Two" eh? Gives a whole new meaning to the "o'le one-two"..._

"Brick." He bumped his chest with a fist, completing the he-man image. Mordecai shook his head, holding in a laugh.

"Fyrestone's this way! Oh you handsome gentlemen can call me Lilith." Her smile could have lit a world, even covered in blood and dirt.

_Damn. _

The dividing of equipment and cash became automatic, probably the fairest thing on the planet. Nothing was discussed. It just...happened.

Another piece of the random violent world called Pandora. A fluke of fate.

The beginning of a legend.

The Vault hunters.

* * *

_Legends die hard. They survive as truth rarely does._

_- Helen Hayes_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: the-lazy-bum: Its more a series of connected sequences I guess. Borderlands is a huge game and I...don't have the ambition to rewrite the whole thing. But thank you. _

_Any reviews? Super appreciated. _

_Tabula Rasa_

* * *

_Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat._

_- Elizabeth Bowen_

* * *

Skulls decorated the walls and the bar was full of flies, but nothing was decomposing in a corner. For Fyrestone it was five-star digs.

_Been in worse I guess. _

On his own at last, Mordecai had just finished setting his skinny body into the corner with the best view of the place and he was busy getting Bloodwing comfortable on his own stool. Dreads swung as his head snapped back just in time to see the sand-beaten waitress set an ice-cold beer infront of him with a loud clink.

He stared at it.

_I didn't order that. Or did I? _

The voice wasn't helpful.

_**Why don't you ask her and look like a total psycho? Get it? Psycho?**_

He told it shut its pie-hole and keep its terrible puns to itself, thank you very much.

How'd the old bag sneak up on him anyway? He kept staring, as though the beer would magically give him the answer.

"S' from Trouble over there." The waitress answered him with an aggrieved sigh. A leathery hand gestured over toward the bar, where the redhead from the battle was flirting like mad with the bartender. Leaning forward, rear sticking out right in Mordecai's direction.

_Damn. _

He realized his mouth was open when a fly buzzed in, bouncing around his throat and causing hacking coughs moments later.

"Don't stare. It's rude to stare at a lady." Another startling clink sounded to his left as a second beer joined his on the dirty table, the massive form of Brick staring down at him frowning as he tried to perch his bulk on the tiny barstool.

Mordecai was too busy coughing to worry about how the loud lumbering man had snuck up on him. A giant hand slapped him gingerly on the back, knocking him face first into the table.

The fly buzzed out of his mouth and landed in his beer. He sent it a resentful glare and fished it out. Worse things than flies had ended up in his mouth by accident.

"She's not a lady."

"She got you free beer, she's a lady to you mister." A popping sound came from his neck as his head whipped around again, the smiling soldier sitting comfortably on his right.

_What the? Where'd he come from?_

His head was starting to hurt. No one snuck up on him. Ever.

_**Losing your edge and your mind? All in one day. That's an Achievement! **_

He almost agreed before remembering that he never agreed with the voice. No sense encouraging it.

A hand jostled his shoulder, bringing him back from his internal conversation. The other two men at the table were in the middle of setting their empty glasses down. Roland poked him again, face unsmiling and urgent.

"Drink up. We've gotta go." He was about to open his mouth to object but a fly buzzed by his face and he hastily thought better of it. The beer was emptied in a single long swallow before he followed the two men out into the evening.

_What am I doing? _

He hated groups. Someone always shot themselves in the foot. Or the hand.

_Why can they never accidentally shoot themselves in the head? So much simpler..._

The bounty board was a scrap covered mess of disorganization in front of them when the trio stopped. Absently, he scanned it.

A beer bottle flew past his left leg and shattered in the dirt as the bar exploded behind them. Stools, bottles, and body parts shot through the glass windows littering the area.

A head hit the bounty board, splashing all three of them with blood and brain matter. Bloodwing flew up into the sky with a disgruntled caw.

Whump.

The air crackled with energy from Lilith's phase walk, and her golden eyes shot sparks.

"The fuckers tried to grab my ass!" A slim hand grabbed a gore-smattered flier off the board. "I need to kill something. C'mon."

Without considering what he was doing, Mordecai fell instep behind her. He turned to the dark man on his left.

"How'd you know...?" The soldier smiled.

"I saw the barrels of explosives by the door. Ass like hers in a town like this? It was bound to happen."

"She is a lady!" Brick growled from above them, adjusting his rings.

"Of course she is." Roland's smile never wavered.

_Is he on pills or something? Dude's just too damn happy..._

Mordecai turned back to the front, his eyes falling on the cause of the burning bar.

_She probably has the best ass this side of Pandora. _

He realized his mouth was open and he was staring again twenty minutes later when a fly flew into his mouth. Brick's hearty slap landed him in a sand dune that time.

_Fucking good for nothing siren leading me into trouble. _

The voice was too busy laughing its ass off to comment.

He made sure his jaw was shut tight the rest of the trek.

* * *

_Following my muse has worked out pretty well so far. I can't see any reason to change the formula now._

_- Chris Van Allsburg_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: the-lazy-bum: Yeah I could see it too. That gives me an idea actually..._

_Pants_

* * *

_Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea._

_― Robert A. Heinlein_

* * *

The Siren's long hands were tugging at a pair of bloody pants, undoing the fastenings.

He was glad Brick was over the hill where he couldn't see. The big man was obsessed with her being a "lady" and Mordecai really really did not want to be apart of disillusioning him.

Ever.

"What the hell are you doing?" He wiped uncomfortably at the sweat dripping from under his mask, and considered just running the hell away as fast as he could.

_Do I really want to know?_

_**You know you'll wonder about it if you don't...**_

It had a point. Curiosity was his worst flaw (and potentially greatest strength). He frowned harder. Sand bit into the exposed part of his face as the wind blew and he cursed the dust ball that was Pandora.

The yellow eyes turned toward him were wide and deceptively innocent. How she managed it with her hands undoing a man's fly was beyond him. Some theater talent scout somewhere had missed a real gem.

Mordecai was fairly sure she didn't have an innocent bone in her body.

"I just want to see." The pleading note in her voice made his skin crawl a little, the voice and the eyes in complete discord with what her hands were doing.

"Lilith..."

_**This is why you don't follow strange women around...**_

He gripped his rifle tighter, considering just making a run for it. Women were difficult dangerous things that cried for no reason, expected you to read their minds, and threw things if you didn't.

_Oh and this one? Yeah she can do crazy witchcraft shit. _

He was reminded yet again why he worked best alone.

Shit like this just did _not_ happen then.

"Oh c'mon Mordy live alittle." She was cajoling in her sing-song voice, the one that made Marcus give her a discount.

He cringed.

_Mordy? Fucking really? _

Lilith took advantage of his silence to rip the now unfastened pants and whatever was underneath down.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah."

For a moment only sound was the wind howling around their still figures.

"Nine-toes really did have three balls..."

* * *

_Some are born weird, some achieve it, others have weirdness thrust upon them._

_― Dick Francis, To the Hilt_


End file.
